Standing alone
by masterlokiseverus159
Summary: Post Sign of three: Now that John is married and anticipating a child, Sherlock believes there is no need for John anymore. Or rather, there is no need to put his life in unnecessary danger when he has a family to look out for. Of course when Sherlock himself is in danger, he realises that perhaps you cannot make decisions for others and that maybe he is part of John's family too.
1. The fight

** Sherlock-Standing alone **

**chapter 1: The fight **

Set directly after the end of the Sign of three, S3E02

Spoilers:Season 3

So this is a different take on how things could have happened after the wedding. It talks about Sherlock's insecurities and all around fear of being alone (Sherlock is very insecure in this). Enjoy!

* * *

The news of a third Watson on the way was a shocking, yet fantastic piece of news for Mary and John. And Sherlock could not be happier for his friend, or else he would not have pointed out the deduction (after all, it would not be fair if he knew before they did). He smiled as he watched John's face light up with a huge grin and watched him turn to Mary who laughed in shock. Sherlock smiled at the content couple , watching this clear display of emotion.

Except...

For some reason, watching this scene made him wonder. If they looked so content at the mere thought of a child, would they have time to think about anything else? Or more importantly?

Would there be any room for Sherlock in this new family?

As Sherlock pondered this, the smile on his face faded slightly and the urge to dance disappeared. They wouldn't have time for him-it was only logical. John had priorities now-as a father-to-be, he'd have to be there for Mary and when the child came, he'd have to be a good parent (not that it would be difficult, John was good with these things) who spent time with his child. No matter how hard John tried, things would never be the same. Going on to solve crimes didn't even come into the equation.

The realisation that Mrs Hudson had been right dawned on him. Even Mycroft had said he'd be seeing him more often now rather than John. It was only logical that John would want to spend more time with his family.

_What did you expect? That John would wait for two years? That he'd need you just as much as you need him?_

Sherlock felt his hands begin to shake but he clenched them hard and decided he didn't really want to be here now. Sighing and sparing one last glance at all the the people he considered close, he turned his back and left the party to venture into the night.

* * *

It had been three days since John had come back from his honeymoon and still, there was no text from Sherlock. It was unnerving since they had agreed Sherlock would text when he got back and John had drilled the date into Sherlock's thick skull. John paced frantically around the living room as he thought about it. Mary walked in with a cup of tea and set it down on the table in front of the sofa she sat down on. The continuous motion of her husband springing back and forth like a yoyo was making her feel sick. She sighed; sometimes the boys were so oblivious, they didn't even realise that there was often a very simple solution to things.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"Tea?"

"Oh right. Thankyou."

He sat beside her and sipped his tea, all the while just staring at his phone.

"John, just call him."

"What? No, he said he would call me. And he knew our flight back was three days ago."

"He may just be busy. Maybe on a case or something."

"No. We agreed before the wedding. The next case he did, we'd do together. He promised." John paused for a minute and turned to Mary.

"Do you think he's in trouble?"

"I'd call him."

Mary handed him the phone and John quickly pressed the call button for the number. It rang a few times but no one answered. He tried several times but still, no one answered. Finally John grabbed his coat, wallet and keys and headed to the door.

"Mary I'm heading out to see him. I'll call you when I find him."

A while later, John was at the stairway of the 221B Baker street flat. The flat brought back flashes of memories. Some were about different cases while others were about crazy experiments. But all were fond memories with Sherlock. He still couldn't believe that Sherlock didn't think he was his best friend though. If not best friend, at least good friend but apparently not since Sherlock's reaction to the revelation was to drink eyeball-flavoured tea.

John shook his head slightly to break his own revere and made his way to the familiar door. When he walked in, the room was strangely tidy which felt very out of place-like someone hadn't been here for a few days (John knew because before he left, the flat was just as tidy). Had Sherlock not been at home?

John continued through to the kitchen area that was also tidy. Confused but determined, John made his way back to the main room and called out.

"Sherlock? Sherlock are you here!?"

There was no answer.

Now starting to worry, John pulled out his phone and tapped his fingers at lightening speed to text Sherlock.

**_Where are you? Can't find you in the flat-JW_**

While waiting, John made himself a cup of tea, instinctively taking two cups out instead of one. _'Old habits died hard I guess'._

He heard a loud beep and sped across to his phone.

**_Not in flat. Busy. Aren't you supposed to be on your honeymoon? SH_**

John seethed as he read the message. Sherlock was absolutely fine-he just hadn't bothered to call earlier. And on top of that, he had forgotten when he and Mary were meant to be coming back, when John had made certain-_absolutely certain_ that he knew which day.

**_Honeymoon is over. Arrived three days ago and have been waiting for you. How the hell could you forget? Why didn't you answer my calls?-JW_**

_**Busy. Couldn't answer your calls.-SH**_

**_When are you coming back? To the flat?-JW_**

**_Don't wait. Go home-Mary is waiting.-SH_**

**_When are you getting home?-JW_**

**_Could be a long time-SH_**

**_I'll wait. How long?-JW_**

There were a few minutes of silence before he finally replied.

**_Three hours-SH_**

**_Ok. I'm waiting.-JW_**

John sighed and turned on the TV and stared at the skull on the mantelpiece. He needed to call Mary and let her know what was going on.

"Mary? Yeah look, Sherlock isn't here...Oh nono, he's fine...He's just been busy doing god knows what and forgot about the date for our return from the Honeymoon...not yet, but when he comes back in three hours I'll know...ok, take care...love you too, see you later."

* * *

Three hours passed surprisingly quickly even with dull daytime tv, but soon enough John heard the front door and Sherlock coming up the stairs. There was a faint rustling and the door opened to reveal a slightly disrevelled detective who was shaking and obviously exhausted. Seeing John made Sherlock pause for a minute and he just stared unblinking, at the blogger in his chair. After what felt like hours but was actually mere seconds, Sherlock walked straight past John and dumped his coat on a spare chair in the kitchen, all while completely ignoring John.

"Sherlock?"

Silence. John groaned. This was childish.

"Sherlock!? Where have you been? I've been waiting on your call since-"

"I had a case."

John stopped and looked at Sherlock. Really looked. Sherlock's expression was cold and unrelenting, as if this was Donovan he was talking to rather than John but his eyes were filled with a sad kind of pain, and perhaps a tinge of fear.

"I thought we agreed to do our next case together." John spoke softly.

Sherlock turned away and shrugged.

"You were busy. I didn't think you'd mind."

John was gobsmacked.

"How could you think I wouldn't mind!? We agreed and I was looking forward to it!"

"You shouldn't have been. You have responsibilities now, towards Mary and your unborn child. You don't have time to be chasing pointless lowlifes. You are not the police."

"Sherlock, is everything ok? Why would you say something like that? I thought-"

"Well that is the problem. You don't think. You can't think. Therefore do not indulge in things that you are not capable of."

John could not believe this. What Sherlock doing? Did he not even realise what he was _saying_?!

"How can you even-"

"Leave. I do not need the assistance of some ex-army doctor no longer in action who slows me down."

That shocked John. Sherlock was many things-arrogant, ignorant and sure as hell, cocky but he was never outright rude. And especially not to John.

"What's gotten into you!?"

"Just go John. You aren't needed anymore."

"Fine! You know what?! That's fine! I only wanted to come over and ask you if you wanted to be my child's godfather, but since its clear you don't want anything to do with me and i'm so useless, you can forget it! I don't need your cases, Sherlock and more importantly, I don't need YOU!" And John spun around and stormed out.

Sherlock winced as the door slammed shut and let out a shaky sigh. He didn't want to but he knew it had to be done. He'd seen the messages and the calls John had left him and of course, he'd known the date of their return. But that was the problem. John was just too loyal. His faithful blogger wouldn't leave him even if the cases were dangerous and distracting so he had to MAKE him leave or John's time with the child and Mary would be compromised, and Sherlock couldn't have that. It was a shame though.

Sherlock would have to lose his best and only friend as a result. He would be alone again. The freak without any friends, incapable of being with others, unable to function like a normal person. Completely unfeeling and coldhearted psychopath who-

"No. I cannot think about this!" Sherlock collapsed onto the sofa and assumed his normal prayer position. He tried entering his mind palace but knew it would only provide some distraction for a limited time. John had been about to ask him to be the child's Godfather. He hadn't known and had never expected anyone would want Him as part of there family, especially good kindhearted John, who could easily choose anyone. Sherlock knew he had changed. John had changed him, ever since his fall and for John to want him as a part of his life meant something to him. Mycroft was right; caring was not an advantage. But Sherlock was no longer capable of being detached. But the only way to make sure he didn't interfere and get John and his family hurt was to make sure John didn't want him. And that is what he had done. He had successfully pushed John away.

Sherlock tried to ignore the cold, damp feeling that had appeared on his cheeks as he realised he had just lost his final chance at having a family and being accepted as well as his best friend. Still he did really have a case at the moment so he'd just have focus on that. He'd have to because he didn't have a choice.

* * *

And that was the first chapter! Any thoughts are always appreciated:) Review, follow, favourite and make my day;D


	2. The flight

**Sherlock-Standing alone **

**chapter 2: The flight **

Set directly after the end of the Sign of three, S3E02

Spoilers:Season 3

So this is a different take on how things could have happened after the wedding. It talks about Sherlock's insecurities and all around fear of being alone (Sherlock is very insecure in this). Enjoy!

* * *

Mary jumped at the sound of the door slamming. What on earth was that? From her place on the comfy sofa, she shifted slightly to face the door behind her.

"John? What happened? Is everything ok? Is Sherlock ok?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sherlock's fine, but he just doesn't want to know me anymore."

"What!? Why!?"

John turned from hanging up his worn coat and sat down next to her. She could tell by the look on his face that he'd been in an argument and was very upset.

"Sherlock thinks I'm basically a burden and he doesn't need me anymore." John scrunched his fists against his fraying trousers and looked down, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in his eyes. Mary scoffed.

"He doesn't need you anymore? _He_ _doesn't need you anymore?!_ John, he obviously needs you. He's always needed you, he fell of a building because he needed you. What makes you think a one off event like a honeymoon is going to change that?"

John knew she had a point. Sherlock always needed John and in pretty much every single case John had been an asset to him in some way, so something must have happened to make him say such awful things.

"Tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning, everything he said."

After recounting the conversation, John observed Mary's thoughtful expression. One of the many things he loved about her was the way she was able to think about things calmly and rationally. It was part of the reason he had been able to carry on after the fall, he had been so lucky to meet her when he did.

"So you're sure he said that."

"Definitely. I was so angry with him at that point that I just stormed out."

Mary lent on her hands and sighed. Why would Sherlock, who thought of John as his only friend want to push him away? She thought back hard. He had been anxious at the wedding and the build up towards it because he'd been told things would change between him and John. Well not Told per-say, but implied as much. But they'd assured him that nothing would change so that shouldn't be a problem. No, that wasn't the problem.

_"Well you'll hardly need me anymore, now that you've got a real baby coming."_

That was it. Sherlock thought they wouldn't want him around with a baby on the way and the comment he made to John proved it.

"John he doesn't mean it. He's saying it to try and distance himself from us. He thinks that with the baby coming he can't be around anymore." As Mary explained her reasoning and the implications Sherlock had made previously, his eyes widened.

"_You have responsibilities now, towards Mary and your unborn child. You don't have time to be chasing pointless lowlifes."_

That idiot! How could he even think that!? He would always be a part of John's life, even with Mary and a child.

Suddenly a wave of guilt crashed down on John. He had known how insecure Sherlock had felt about the wedding and had needed constant reassurance that nothing would change. Everyone had warned him, even Mary, that Sherlock believed his marriage would change everything and a child would seal the bargin. For him to feel that pushing his best friend was right must have meant he didn't want to ruin Johns chance at a family. He was looking out for John, actually being considerate (for once). And what had he said?

_"I only wanted to come over and ask you if you wanted to be my child's godfather, but since its clear you don't want anything to do with me and i'm so useless, you can forget it!"_

That's what Sherlock had wanted the whole time. That's why he hadn't called or texted and had gone on a case on his own. He wanted John to forget about him-leave him. And John had nearly let him.

Nearly.

"I'm going back. There's no way I'm letting that idiot think he's not going to be a part of my life anymore just because a baby's coming. I need to make up for this."

Mary stood up and grabbed her coat and his.

"Call a cab. I'm coming with you."

* * *

A few hours after John had left, Sherlock had received a call from Graham Lestrade (It's Greg! For god's sake Sherlock!) saying another murder had taken place in a flat on the opposite side on London and that the flat had caught fire, just like the other one. As soon as Sherlock arrived he tried to barge passed Donovan but she and several others stopped him as they did on every other occasion.

"Where's your friend, freak? Did he finally realise your freakish psychopathic tendencies? About time John worked it out."

Normally Donovan's comments didn't matter to him. But today Sherlock felt bad as it was, considering John was never going to see him again and he'd be alone again. Sending the darkest possible glare he could manage, he turned to face her and spoke in a sharp enough tone, it was almost as if he could cut through ice.

"Maybe more time spent working, and less time spent sleeping with whoever goes round would get you a promotion. Sally."

He quickly spun on his heel and carried on towards the crime scene, not bothering to acknowledge the completely stunned look on everyone's faces. He didn't care anyway.

* * *

The crime scene was a messy one. The whole floor of the flat had been set on fire, seemingly by some kind of kitchen appliance, but the particular black carbon streaks around the doors and one particular corner where the body had been, suggested otherwise. But it was slightly vague however, considering most of the evidence and detail had been wrecked in the fire. A clever way to conceal ones tracks but still an obvious give away of murder. The only question was how the killers had managed to escape with the doors on fire. The only option was the window but survalience cameras had not picked that up.

While explaining this to Lestrade, Sherlock became increasingly frustrated with this mystery. Murder was obvious and there had to be a connection with the other recent fire in the other flat.

_Or maybe you are just not thinking. Why can't you just THINK?! Is it because you don't have John? THINK!_

"Don't you see! The murderer conceals evidence by killing with fire! The only question is how he gets out after and with no windows or doors!"

Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to try and ward off the oncoming headache. He understood the case was frustrating but did the detective have to be such a git. He wasn't usually this bad. Lestrade looked up.

"Where's John?"

Sherlock paused mid speech and spoke quietly.

"He's not coming."

"What? To the crime scene?"

"No. He isn't going to be assisting me anymore. We are no longer friends." Greg watched him swallow and cough slightly. He could see the tall dark-haired detective was struggling to say the words and suddenly felt incredibly sorry for the younger man. No wonder he was in such a foul mood.

"What happened Sherlock?"

"Nothing. I need to know where the man's phone is."

"Sherlock, the phone just got destroyed in the fire. Along with every other bleedin' thing around here."

Sherlock, who appeared to be staring rather intently at the wall quickly turned and ran out. Knowing there was no way to stop the detective now, Greg sighed and signaled for Donovan to come back in. The sociopath was so hard to deal with sometimes, even if he did care about him.

* * *

Sherlock ran out of the flat and into the streets. He needed quiet and a place to just _Think_. The crime scene held no clues whatsoever and the situation with John was-

No! He could not spend the rest of his time thinking about how much he missed him. And yes, even a high functioning sociopath can admit that he misses his friend. Especially if it is his only friend...or was anyway.

He stopped suddenly and turned around. It seemed he had walked so far down that he'd completely lost his way and was quite far from the flat. He was in some narrow rancid ally of sorts which had clearly been avoided by most except the occasional drug addict or intoxicated alcoholic, if the syringe and bottles in the corner were anything to go by. It was strangely dark and seemed to lead to a dead end with the walls made of painted grey stone. Sighing heavily, Sherlock began to head back out of the ally but suddenly felt the sensation of being watched.

_This is what happens when you don't pay attention!_ Mycroft's voice resonated through the walls of his Mind palace as he sighed. Sherlock turned again to survey the area and find any sign of movement, but realised his mistake too late.

An instant crunch and pain in the back of his head sent Sherlock reeling to the floor. As he struggled to stand back up, his vision span and he quickly realised he was concussed. Badly. A dark gloved hand clasped tightly over his mouth while another wrapped around his arms and waist, pinning him tightly against the man's chest. He tried to desperately call out for help and shake him off and turn his head to see the man who had caught him off guard so quickly but the man pushed Sherlock's head back against his shoulder and gripped him even tighter. The pressure around his waist and the disorienting pain at the back of his head made the detective wince and he started to feel sick. Any tighter and he would pass out, which would be the worst case scenario since he'd rather see his captor. Sherlock could deduce from the way he was being held that the man was significantly taller and more buff than him and had some experience with kidnapping others, given the way the man's hand could easily move to cover his nose as well as mouth and effectively suffocate him.

"Shhh mister Holmes. Any sound from you and I'll cut off your air supply. And I don't think the others would appreciate that." English, but not unused to travelling.

At the mention of others, a car pulled outside the ally and three other equally tall men came to join the man holding Sherlock. The men's shadows gave this away and judging by the three varied, but similar tones of voice, the three men were brothers. Again, Sherlock tried to shout out and shake the man off and for a second the hand covering his mouth loosened. Seizing the opportunity, he stamped down hard on the man's foot and pushed back against the stone wall with as much strength as he could muster, sending his captor stumbling behind. He quickly turned but the motion made him sway and his vision darkened completely for a moment. He soon realised he needed medical attention, and quickly if the slow wet trail running and creeping down the back of his neck was any indication.

_I need John!_

As he steadied himself, he realised the odds were completely against him and the only chance he had was to send a message in the hope that someone would notice. Sherlock saw no other choice and risked pulling his phone out. As quickly as he could, he turned and ran to the end of the ally while typing;

**JOHN KIDNAP HELP**

He was about to hit send when a hand gripped his arm hard, causing him to drop the phone. Another hand pulled him back by his scarf as it unravelled from his neck, which made him jerk back. Before he knew what was happening, a thick seal of tape was pulled across his mouth and his hands were pulled behind his back to be secured with the same tape. He tried to pull out of their grasp but three against one made it difficult and his head hurt.

"God this one won't let up." Another blow, this time to Sherlock's back and he fell forward, gagged and hands tied. As one of the men hauled him over their shoulders and began to walk to the car, Sherlock lifted his head weakly and stared at the floor where his cracked phone had landed and his scarf lay. Just as he lost consciousness, his mind drifted to John. He hoped the message had sent.

* * *

WHOAH! OKAY YOU ARE ALL SO AWESOME-DO YOU REALISE THAT?!

I posted this up thinking 'you know what? Might as well' and came back two days later to find all of you awesome people having followed, faved and reviewed!

DO YOU KNOW HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME?! I think my head just exploded-HEADSPLOSION!

Anyway I'm glad you all do like it but I do have a question- **would you all rather I posted up smaller but still frequent chapters or longer ones (meaning we'd reach the end sooner)?**

It's your call;)

Until the next chapter...


	3. The finding

**Sherlock-standing alone **

**chapter 3- The finding**

Set directly after the end of the sign of three, season 3

Spoilers: Season 3 spoilers

So this is a different take on how things could have happened after the wedding. It talks about Sherlock's insecurities and all around fear of being alone (Sherlock is very insecure in this). Enjoy!

* * *

The flat was still silent and _still_ oddly tidy. There were no experiments laid out in the kitchen and hardly any sheets lying around, but the wall was still covered in sheets, pinned up for display and the laptop was still on so it was clear Sherlock had been looking for a case.

"Sherlock? Are you here? Is he here?" John turned to face Mary who had just come from the kitchen.

"No. I think he's out though-his scarf and coat isn't here." John turned to the coat hanger to find it empty and called Mrs Hudson. The landlady emerged holding a tray of tea and biscuits and gave the married couple a big smile.

"Mrs Hudson, have you seen Sherlock? Has he been here or did he leave?"

Mrs Hudson looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head quickly.

"Oh Sherlock dear left for a case a few hours ago. He said he'd be back soon, but you know what he's like, getting all excited. You know what a nice bit of murder does for him John."

John frowned slightly. He could just be feeling paranoid but better safe than sorry-you never knew what could quite happen on a case and John had first hand experience with that. Just as he pulled out his phone and was about to call Lestrade, his phone started ringing. He frowned when he looked at the screen. Greg didn't usually call him unless there was a change in a case or more information, or Sherlock was being irritating or in trouble. John was not involved in any cases at the moment.

"Hello? Greg?"

"John, have you seen Sherlock? Is he with you?"

On the outside John appeared calm, but inside he could hear his heart pounding and he was beginning to worry.

_Please be alright Sherlock!_

"No. We're at the flat. He went to see you on a case though didn't he? He's with you, right?"

John heard something akin to cursing in the background and Greg shouting something to someone else before replying.

"John, we just found something, you need to get here as soon as possible."

"Alright, i'm coming. Send me the details."

"Alright. Just get here as soon as possible."

"Wait, just now, what did you find?"

"John..." The hesitation in Greg's voice made John's heart momentarily stop.

"Greg, tell me."

"...Sherlock's scarf. It's covered in blood."

* * *

The ally was dark and empty, with only the early evening light as a source. John had sent Mary home after explaining what Greg had told him and had warned her that he may be late. She was as understanding as always.

Staring at the bloodied scarf in his hands now made him feel horribly guilty. Lestrade had explained that Sherlock had been on edge as a result of being alone on the case and wouldn't disclose what had been bugging him. But John knew. If they hadn't fought and he had been with Sherlock, he could have stopped this. He could have been there to make sure he was ok and none of this would have happened.

_But what if Sherlock isn't just hurt? What if he's dying or they were already too late? Just like the fall he wouldn't be able to reach him in time and it was all his fault and-_

_NO! Now is not the time to let feelings get in the way John Watson! Sherlock needs you!_

"We have to work out what happened. Is this where you found his scarf?"

Greg pointed. "A little over there. We found it next to the wall."

John pulled out a flashlight (that he always carried these days) and inspected the area calmly. There were scuffle marks on the floor with a slight dent in the right hand side wall. It was too low to be made by hands but looked as if someone had hit it hard so maybe...

Kicked it. Someone had kicked against it.

Pointing his flashlight at the crevices in the ground, he noticed a shiny gleam of black which looked very obviously out of place. John picked it up and stared. Sherlocks phone had a huge crack on it but was otherwise unscathed. The battery power was only 15% though, which suggested Sherlock had disappeared earlier today, probably just over a few hours ago. The biggest hint however, came when John slid the unlock button of the iPhone.

**JOHN KIDNAP HELP**

The unsent message made his hand shake. Even despite the fight they had had earlier and the supposed finality of their separation, Sherlock had been in a desperate enough situation to call John back or at least try to. That, in itself spoke volumes about their situation. Of course Sherlock hadn't meant what he said, he only wanted to keep him away for his own safety. But even then, he found it difficult to stay away from John.

John shook his head and assessed what he knew. This could be dealt with later but for now work needed to be done.

This confirmed it. Sherlock had been kidnapped by an unknown person or group. He was injured but not too badly if the lack of blood in the ally was any indication...hopefully. There would have been a struggle because Sherlock would put up a fight. Sherlock had tried to call for help but had failed. There were no survalience cameras here so Mycroft would not know who the kidnappers were. But maybe Mycroft would be able to help.

Turning back, he headed to the group of Scotland Yard and told them what he'd found.

He'd find Sherlock. There was no force that could stop him, he'd make sure of it. And if the kidnappers so much as even touched Sherlock-

_I'll kill them._

* * *

And so we have finished chapter 3! What did you all think? Did you love it? Hate it? Any comments are mostly welcome:)

**Thank you all so much** (All of you fantastic, marvelous, wonderful people who make me extremely happy-almost as happy as Sherlock at a crime scene!) for reviewing, favouriting and following. I hope the wait for the update wasn't too long, the next one won't take as long-Promise;D

Until next time:)


	4. The fire

**Sherlock-standing alone, **

**Chapter 4: The fire **

Set directly after the end of the sign of three, season 3

Spoilers: Season 3 spoilers

So this is a different take on how things could have happened after the wedding. It talks about Sherlock's insecurities and all around fear of being alone (Sherlock is very insecure in this). Enjoy!

* * *

Waking up was a painful process and one Sherlock would rather not repeat. The first thing he felt was numbness, followed by a throbbing pain in the back of his head. The second thing he felt was a stinging, burning sensation around his wrists and the third thing was an aching pain in his shoulders. He opened his eyes and blinked to clear his hazy vision, but found it difficult since everything was spinning.

He was on his own in an abandoned barn that seemed to be long unused. The entire floor was coated in dry hay and several large wooden beams held the place up from the ground to the ceiling. There were a three open holes in the walls that acted as windows, bringing a dull light into the room but, other than that, there was no furniture.

Able to see slightly more clearly, Sherlock tried to assess his current situation. It was evening time, approximately six judging by the light, meaning he had been unconscious for around three hours, which was a bad sign considering he was concussed (and that was assuming it was still the same day). His head felt slightly wet and sticky and he could smell the familiar coppery tinge of blood, which meant he had either bled out or was still bleeding. He was alone so the kidnappers had intended for him to be out for longer but for how long, Sherlock did not have a clue.

Of course, he would have gotten out by now however his hands and arms had been pulled and tied around one of the wooden beams behind his back, obviously further taxing his already aching limbs. His legs were lying straight in front of him and were tied at the ankles with tape-the same type of tape that was gagging him at this instant and making breathing more difficult.

Mentally sighing and leaning his head back against the beam he realised there was nothing he could do to escape at this moment. Options were limited due to this concussion and secure binding and he didn't even know who his kidnappers were (a fact that was_ still_ very much bothering him!).

_Whoever has me, doesn't want me leaving anytime soon._

Just as he was about to retreat to his mind palace for a solution, the doors in front of him swung wide open and allowed room for three tall men to walk in. His kidnappers- the group behind the fires in the flats also.

Sherlock stared calmly as they surrounded him and deduced several facts from each brother. _Raised by single mother, long in need of employment, addiction, eldest and youngest severe alcoholics, middle brother recently fought with ex-girlfriend-_

But none of these facts would be of any help since he couldn't speak or find out more or at least try and bargin his way out. And he would have preferred to do just that in this case.

"Look he's awake." Sherlock's steely gaze shifted to the youngest. _Failed to study law at university, so turned to family business-_

"Should we just finish this now? We don't want his friend on our trail or the police. They've already noticed. "

He didn't show any outward reaction other than his eyes widening slightly. John must have noticed, or maybe he had gotten his message. Maybe they would find him before-

"Let's end this now then. Come on, set it and let's just go. The last thing we need is them coming after us for him." The oldest brother, who happened to have a severe case of halitosis and a meth addiction, pointed at him.

"And you."

The oldest of the brothers bent down in front of Sherlock and grabbed his chin roughly to gain attention. Sherlock tried to pull away and answer back but the tape muffled his sounds and made him silent so he stilled and glared back.

"Consider this a favour. There's a huge demand for the great Sherlock Holmes and you never know who might come looking for you. By ending this, no one will find you. We'll make sure of it." The three snickered as the eldest took a long piece of rope from the second oldest (also suffering an addiction but to heroin-family clearly within black market for drugs, possibly owns them) and walked behind Sherlock. He wrapped the rope around the tape already binding his wrists and pulled it tight, making the detective wince at the increased sting. As the leader stood up, the detective watched as the other two spilt oil over the hay and it became increasingly obvious what they were going to do. For the first time since probably the fall, he felt scared and this time he didn't have a plan. He would really die this time and by a fire of all things.

**_I will burn the heart out of you!_**

The irony was that Jim had predicted this two years ago but wasn't going to see this, as much as he would have wanted to. Sherlock could still remember his arch nemesis' voice screaming at him when they first met by the poolside. How right had he been?

The three finished quickly and with every minute passing, Sherlock hoped someone would appear- hoped John would appear.

_But John won't save you. You want nothing to do with him anymore. You will die alone and no one will save you, not this time. Especially not John._

He thought back to John and their final conversation. Had he known it would be their last, he would have ended it on better terms. And Mrs Hudson-he would be reported missing and she wouldn't find out until much later that he was truly dead. The last thing he would have said to her would have been that he was going out and nothing else. Mycroft would probably scoff initially, not believing his brother to be dead. But after a few days he'd probably realise and maybe mourn him for a while.

He snapped out of his revere when the three brothers began to walk towards the steel door (the only metal in the whole building). Just as they were about to leave, the eldest turned again.

"Spend your last moments praying you won't burn in hell. Though I doubt it since there aren't freaks like you in heaven. Goodbye Mr. Holmes." And with that the door slammed shut, leaving the detective on his own in the dark. Desperately, he tried to pull at the rope around his wrists but the wooden beam already pulling his arms made it difficult. He tried turning and pulling-everything he could but he was well and truly stuck. The faint smell of carbon began to fill the air making him feel slightly sick, as he realised they had set the outside of the building on fire. He tried using the beam to push against and stand up but he just kept falling back. Internally, he was now panicking.

_Ok don't panic. Roughly five minutes before the fire enters the interior. Roughly three minutes before fire catches on the hay. One minute before it reaches the oil. You have nine minutes to find a way to escape._

Looking around, he could see flames beginning to spread and seep through the wood. The flames were spreading and Sherlock blinked rapidly to try to get rid of the stinging sensation in his eyes. His eyes watered from the smoke and soon he was coughing against the gag and he felt the sweat from his forehead merge with the tears on his dirt covered face.

Five minutes gone! **_John where are you!?_**

The flames had now caught one of the wooden beams and was making its way down, acting as some kind of natural timer for his imminent death. His head throbbed with the extra heat he could now feel getting closer and the tape covering his mouth made it twice as hard to breath, making him feel slightly lightheaded. For the first occasion since a long time, he wished he was unconscious. His hopes of John coming for him had diminished and his logical mind told him no one would be able to find him now, let alone save him, so perhaps wishing for the most painless way to end made sense.

The fire had now reached the roof and had surrounded him completely by joining the had lit the building from all corners so there was no way out. All he could do now was watch as the fire reached the hay with oil poured over it. Then it would be all over.

The lightheaded feeling came back full force as he continued to inhale the toxic smoke in the air and he watched with sadistic interest as the things around him began to blur and gain a strange aura around them. With a final tug at his bonds he let his head fall back against the beam and coughed weakly again, the sound coming out even fainter.

_Good bye John_

And the flames engulfed him.

* * *

So that was chapter four everyone! I hope you liked it and it satisfied your Sherlock needs for the day;)

I'm sorry I took so long in updating but actually I went on holiday and realised when I got there that there was no internet, which killed me inside (I'm materialistic-I live on the internet;) But anyway, updates will be back as per usual!

As always, please comment and let me know what you thought about this chapter:D It would be great to know what you think will happen:D


	5. The flames

**Sherlock-standing alone, **

**Chapter 5: The flames **

Set directly after the end of the sign of three, season 3

Spoilers: Season 3 spoilers

So this is a different take on how things could have happened after the wedding. It talks about Sherlock's insecurities and all around fear of being alone (Sherlock is very insecure in this). Enjoy!

* * *

John hadn't felt this scared in a long time. Afghanistan was a traumatic experience but one he had learned to deal with and continued to deal with everyday. Sherlock's fall from the building however, was something he had never quite fully accepted or recovered from, even now.

Watching this barn going up in flames gave him the same feeling of shear terror as that day. And Sherlock was supposed to be in there, trapped and completely alone, most likely hurt too. He could be dying. Or already dead.

After explaining to the police what he had worked out in the ally, they had agreed to call Mycroft to conduct a wide spread search for any kind of hints on where Sherlock could be. Initially this gained no results until John asked about the particular case Sherlock was working on. Fires appearing in flats in London at timed intervals was the clue to the case and now, was the key to finding Sherlock. Mycroft had been successful when he found this, quite inflammable abandoned barn where the heat sensors showed three men surrounding a thinner, younger man.

They had been lucky. A perfect location to murder someone and have no-one know. The police had wanted to take necessary precaution and prepare before going to deal with the three kidnappers but John wouldn't have it. He left as soon as he heard, not caring about the police. The journey had taken John a few hours but here he was getting out of the car Mycroft had leant him to see the entire barn aflame.

Without a second thought he ran towards the steel door and pounded against it, screaming;

"SHERLOCK!"

After several slams against the door, he remembered something and ran back to the car. A few minutes later he was using a huge axe to break the wooden wall beside the door. It gave way quickly and John stepped through the hole, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve. The entire interior was filled with smoke, making it harder to see but strangely enough the fire had yet to make its way down from the roof and sides to the floor. Gasping and coughing against his sleeve, he called out again.

"SHERLOCK! SHERLOCK, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Desperately he tried to survey the area and look for his detective, but it was hard and he couldn't hear any sign of him either. Did that mean Sherlock was already...?

_No! I won't believe it till I see it. I **WILL** find him._

It was at this moment that John caught sight of a shadow in the smoke against a wooden beam. As he ran closer, he could make out dark curly hair on a familiar silhouette. _No..._

"SHERLOCK!"

When John reached the detective, he gasped. Sherlock's arms had been pulled back and tied behind the wooden beam, making him incapable of even moving easily. His feet had been bound and his mouth had been covered with a thick strip of tape, making speaking impossible. And breathing.

_Oh god, is he even breathing?_ _He's not awake. His eyes are closed_.

John knelt down and placed two fingers against his neck. Despite the danger, he breathed a sigh of relief internally, even if the pulse was slightly fainter than it should be. Sherlock was alive but unconscious, probably because of the smoke and lack of air but John also suspected concussion because of the blood in Sherlock hair. Heart pounding for a response, John grasped his shoulders, shaking him gently but firmly.

"Sherlock! Please wake up, come on you have to wake up! Sherlock!"

But he did not respond, his head leaning against the beam, his face dirty with smoke, carbon and blood. John pulled out the knife he always kept in his trousers and began to cut through the rope and tape around Sherlock's wrists, all the while trying to get him to wake up. When he was done, Sherlock's arms slumped to his sides and this time when John moved back in front to look at Sherlock's face, he did respond. His unique greenish blue and normally sharp eyes fluttered slightly and as they opened , John confirmed his diagnosis of concussion.

Sherlock's glazed and only somewhat focused eyes widened when he noticed John and he tried to speak but couldn't make a sound. John shook his head slightly.

"Don't worry. I'm getting you out of here." And with that, John hooked one arm under the detective's knees and used the other to lift his shoulders and head up.

Sherlock looked slightly confused and a tad dazed but John gave him a look of assurance. He didn't have time to try and make Sherlock stand because the fire would reach the hay any second, and that would make getting out even harder since they were surrounded by hay. Getting Sherlock out was far more important. He just hoped he'd be strong enough to carry Sherlock. In one swift movement, he lifted his best friend up and carried him out quickly-for once feeling glad Sherlock was relatively light in terms of weight.

They managed to reach out just in time, Sherlock safe in John's arms. When John had reached a safe enough distance by the car, he turned just in time to see the whole barn explode into flames. He instinctively tightened his grip around Sherlock and breathed a massive sigh of relief.

* * *

I hope this makes up for the evil of the last chapter ;D Of course, I couldn't let anything happen to Sherlock;)

As always, reviews are appreciated and bring joy and cheer me up- "like a nice bit of murder" as Mrs. Hudson would say!;)


	6. The friend

** Sherlock-standing alone **

** chapter 6- The friend **

Set directly after the end of the sign of three, season 3

Spoilers: Season 3 spoilers

So this is a different take on how things could have happened after the wedding. It talks about Sherlock's insecurities and all around fear of being alone (Sherlock is very insecure in this). Enjoy!

**Thank you all so much for your comments! Keep em' comin'!**

* * *

Sherlock was certain, so certain that he had now lost it, as people would say.

Thirty seconds ago he was sure he was going to die alone, and now here was John right in front of him, talking to him. He thought he'd heard his name faintly in the distance but he didn't actually believe he was going to be saved.

It was illogical. According to his calculations, he should be dead by now.

"Don't worry. I'm getting you out of here." He was confused. Why would**_ John_** be here? And why was he now rescuing him from a burning building?

_And why was-? _

His thoughts were cut short when he felt John wrap his strong arms around him and lift him quickly, but carefully.

_What?_ _But John doesn't want anything to do with me! He isn't my friend anymore so why would he risk his life to** save** **me**?!_

Sherlock continued to stare up at John as he was carried out of the burning building. The minute he could speak, he would ask John why he had done this.

Unfortunately at this point the lightheaded feeling and dizziness attacked again, leaving him feeling disorientated, breathless and sick. Surrendering to John, his eyes drifted shut and his head fell against John's chest as he struggled to breath through just his nose.

* * *

When he felt Sherlock lean against him and suddenly feel a lot heavier, John looked down at him. He needed to get the tape off, it was making it difficult for Sherlock to breath and he needed to breath properly, especially considering he'd just inhaled, god knows how much, smoke.

He lay Sherlock down gently on the damp grass (it had rained apparently) and knelt by his side. They were outside now and moonlight shone on his face and illuminated the blood and ash and possible tear stains around his closed eyes and on his pale cheeks from the struggle. John felt a cold dampness on his own cheeks at the sight and realised he had come so close to losing his best friend, permanently this time.

Using his knife, he tipped his head back slightly and slid the knife between the tape and his cheek, and carefully cut it. The minute he took it off, Sherlock suddenly started coughing and gasped to take multiple breathes.

"Sherlock, slow down! Take slow breaths. You'll feel better."

With his eyes squeezed shut Sherlock tried to nod but only just managed to keep his breath in control. After a few minutes, he no longer felt as dizzy and opened his eyes to see John watching over him with concern.

"Jo...John..." His voice came out hoarse and he winced. John gave a shaky sigh and cut the tape around his feet, freeing him completely.

"You're an idiot. How could you let something like this happen?" Sherlock's eyes widened as John's voice cracked a few times. _Was he crying?_

"What if I hadn't been able to find you?! What then Sherlock?! **What then?!"** His voice turned to anger but Sherlock could hear the real fear and pain in his voice. Had he upset John that much? Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes.

It was hardly his fault, he'd been trying to keep John safe.

"I was trying to keep you and Mary safe." God his voice hurt. And his head for that matter. The look on John's face told him that wasn't the best response. He didn't look as upset anymore as he did, angry now. Furious in fact.

"And who says I need your protection Sherlock? Don't you think that's _my_ decision to make? And doesn't this show just how much you need _my_ protection?! And just because I have a family now, doesn't mean I don't want **you** to be a part of it! You and Mary are the first people I want in my family, even before a child! You're my best friend!"

John was back to looking upset now but Sherlock was stunned. He had been rendered speechless. Had he been wrong to push John away? But surely he was a danger to their family, so it would be best to leave them be.

"No."

"No? What do you mean, '_No_'?"

"You don't want me in your family John."

"What?! You idiot, I just said I did! I-" Sherlock shook his head slightly.

"I am a danger to you and Mary. What if what has just happened to me happens to you? Did you ever consider this?"

John had to stop at that. Yes, Sherlock's line of work was dangerous, but it was worth it. Criminals were caught and lives were saved, and Mycroft had been right; John didn't fear the battlefield, he missed it. Sherlock gave him a sense of direction and need. And of course, where would he be without the high functioning sociopath's stupid tendencies, like waking up at three in the morning, burning fingers in the microwave and, of course, putting heads into the fridge. John needed Sherlock and he suspected, no!-he_ knew_, Sherlock needed him too. So no marriage was going to change that and John wouldn't let it.

"Sherlock I don't care about the danger, for gods sake I went to fight in a war so I can handle it. What I can't handle is something happening to my best friend because I wasn't there to help him. Like today, if something worse had happened I don't know what I'd do. I cannot take watching you die again Sherlock. Actually I was wrong. You're not just my best friend anymore. You're family."

Sherlock blinked. He was completely shocked. Who would want him in their family? He was a freak, a high functioning sociopath. John must have noticed his thoughts written on his face because his expression changed and he gave him a look of pure sympathy. He cleared his throat and spoke as if stating the obvious.

"This _means_, Sherlock, that you're safety is important and that I need to be able to keep an eye on you too. And that if anything happens to you, we're all affected by it. Understood?"

"I don't understand how you can consider me family. I already have a family and surely this is yours."

John stood up and sighed, while looking up at the black sky. It was what? Eight o'clock now? Who knew how long they'd been out here for.

"It doesn't matter. You don't need to understand. You just are. Simple as that."

Upon hearing this, something inside Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Then he felt elated. He was part of John's family! All of them had been wrong, even Mycroft, who was never wrong! _He was a part of John's family! _

In his excitement, he stood up instantly but the action made him sway. Suddenly everything was moving and a high pitched keening noise entered his ears as he felt himself begin to fall back. He waited for a smash to his head but it never came. John's arms locked around his waist allowing him to fall back against him limply, then John balanced Sherlock slightly with one arm and reached down to lift up his legs with the other.

"I'm getting you to the hospital. You're concussed, I should have taken you sooner. And your lungs need to be checked and-Sherlock no, stop it! You're going make yourself sick!"

"No! No hospitals, John please!"

Sherlock tried to escape John's grasp but John tightened his grip. The detective stopped and looked up pleading to the blogger. That gaze turned his insides-he knew Sherlock hated hospitals and he **w_as_** a doctor. Sherlock had been conscious for at least an hour now too, and his breathing was better provided he didn't move too much. An idea struck John and he guided the taller man's feet down and helped him to stand, keeping his hands securely on Sherlock's forearms. He turned Sherlock to face him and inspected him.

"How about this? You do exactly as I say, no arguments and we go home instead of the hospital."

Sherlock didn't say anything but the slight smirk gave his answer away as did the look of relief in his ever enticing eyes. John smiled and opened the car door for Sherlock to sit in the passenger seat next to the driver. Then John sat down in the drivers seat and started the car.

"Right, lets get you home then."

* * *

There we go, did you love it? Hate it? What was your favourite or, bit not good part in this chapter? Personally, I loved Sherlock being really happy about being in John's family, but thats' just me;)

Review and let me know what you think- I'm so glad though, you all seem to be enjoying this story so it makes me very happy indeed:D

Thank you all so much ;D Next chapter soon!


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